Chapter 145 The Unseen Witness
Anabelle stood frozen by her apartment door, her heart racing fast. Carson’s words still rang in her ears, heavy with emotion and regret.
His eyes were tired, his face pale, and there was a sadness in his voice she had not heard before.
He looked like a man carrying a storm inside him, one he could no longer hide.
“I’m sorry, Anabelle,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have left you. I thought I was doing what my family wanted, but I destroyed everything good in my life,” he said.
Anabelle’s fingers tightened around the doorknob.
“You shouldn’t be here, Carson,” she said softly. “You can’t just show up like this.”
“I had to,” he said quickly, stepping forward. “I couldn’t breathe anymore pretending to be happy. I keep thinking about you—every single day. You’re the only thing that feels real.”
Her eyes glistened, but she stood her ground.
“Carson, stop,” she said. “You made your choice. You’re the one who walked away, remember?”
He shook his head slowly, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you. But all I did was hurt you—and myself.”
Anabelle’s heart twisted. “You think words can fix that?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “You think saying sorry will erase what you did?”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said, looking down. “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you.”
The silence between them was deep and heavy. Anabelle didn’t know what to say.
For a moment, she saw the man she once loved—the one who used to make her laugh, the one who promised forever and broke it.
Before she could respond, the soft sound of the elevator opening echoed down the hallway. Both of them turned their heads slightly. A quiet tension filled the air.
Fred stepped out of the elevator, holding a small brown bag of groceries.
He had a calm look on his face at first, but when he saw Carson standing by Anabelle’s door, his steps slowed.
His eyes moved from Carson to Anabelle, confusion flashing across his face.
Carson noticed him immediately. His expression changed from sorrow to irritation.
“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply. His tone was defensive, almost territorial.
Fred didn’t speak. He just stood still, staring quietly at both of them. He wasn’t the type to interfere or raise his voice. His silence said enough—steady, calm, but firm.
Anabelle frowned at Carson. “Don’t talk to him like that,” she said quickly. “He doesn’t owe you an answer.”
Carson turned to her, his voice tight. “So, Why is he here?” he asked.
Anabelle’s jaw tightened. “That’s none of your business,” she said. “You don’t get to ask questions about my life anymore.”
Fred shifted slightly, still saying nothing. He lowered the grocery bag slowly, his eyes calm but unreadable.
Carson gave a dry laugh, though it sounded forced.
“I see,” he said bitterly. “So, this is why you don’t want to listen to me? You’ve moved on already?” he asked.
Anabelle stepped forward, her voice rising. “No, Carson. I’m not doing this,” she said. “You don’t get to come here and accuse me of anything. You ended us. You walked away. Remember that before you start pointing fingers.”
Carson’s expression softened again, regret replacing his anger. “I didn’t come here to fight,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”
“Then you said enough,” Anabelle said. “Now, please leave.”
Fred’s quiet eyes followed Carson, his presence steady, his silence almost protective. He didn’t need to say a word; Anabelle felt his calm like a shield behind her.
Carson sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You used to listen to me,” he said softly. “Now you look at me like I’m a stranger.”
Anabelle’s tone was gentle but firm. “That’s because you became one,” she said. “The day you let me go, you made that choice.”
Carson stared at her for a moment longer, his face pale under the hallway light.
“I wish I could change everything,” he whispered. “I wish I had been stronger.”
“Wishing won’t fix the past,” she said. “We both have to live with it.”
He gave a slow nod, his voice almost breaking. “Goodbye, Anabelle,” he said quietly. He turned and began to walk down the hallway, his steps echoing softly against the tiles.
Fred watched him until the elevator doors closed again. Only then did he move closer to Anabelle. His face was calm, but his eyes held concern.
Anabelle leaned against the doorframe, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t expect that,” she murmured.
Fred still said nothing. He simply handed her the grocery bag he had been holding, his movements slow and gentle. She looked up at him, meeting his steady gaze.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He gave a small nod, then looked toward the hallway again, his jaw tightening slightly before he turned back to her. His silence felt heavier now, filled with words he didn’t say.
Anabelle gave a tired smile. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said softly. “I know you won’t judge me.”
Fred nodded again, his expression unreadable. He stayed for a brief moment longer, then stepped back.
“Goodnight,” he said finally, his voice calm but distant.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
He turned and walked away, his quiet footsteps fading down the corridor. Anabelle stood still for a long while, the grocery bag still in her hands.
The apartment felt colder when she stepped inside. She placed the bag on the counter and leaned against the wall, staring at the floor.
Carson’s words replayed in her mind, but Fred’s silent presence lingered stronger.
Carson had spoken of love, regret, and loss. But Fred had said nothing—yet somehow, his silence had meant more.
Anabelle took a slow breath and looked out the window. The city lights shimmered in the distance, and for the first time that night, she felt something close to peace.
Whatever storm Carson had brought with him, she was done letting it break her again.
And though Fred had not said a word, she knew—deep down—that he understood everything she couldn’t yet put into words.